All Chapters of The Assistant Coach: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

I glare at the smug guy standing in front of me, the same guy whose nose I made bleed with a well-placed punch earlier. He's wearing a cocky grin under his helmet, and I can feel my anger bubbling up inside me. "Let's make a little deal here, if we win, you apologize for my nose—" There's no way I'm going to apologize for that. "—And if you win, I'll apologize directly to your coach," he replies, his smirk widening. "Deal," I say, maybe a little too quickly, but I can't help myself. This guy's arrogance is getting under my skin. As soon as the whistle blows, I get the puck and start skating down the ice, my eyes locked on Ant as I pass him the puck, he zooms past me with lightning speed. I push myself to catch up, feeling the icy air whipping against my face as I move. I see an Iverton player trying to block Ant's path, so I take matters into my own hands and give the guy a hard shove, sending him crashing into the barricade. The crowd roars with excitement as I skate past, a smi

I'm trapped in a never-ending loop at the Aurora mall parking lot, looping around like a deranged NASCAR driver. The speakers are shaking with the force of Katy Perry's "USA" anthem because, well, what else is there to do when you've finished all your classes, don't have hockey practice, and have your friend’s car? Ari's sparkling white Jeep Wrangler is my trusty steed for this aimless adventure. She's kind enough to let me borrow it since she barely touches the thing. The only condition she gave me was to not transform it into a crumpled metal mess, which seems like an obvious request. I mean, come on, crashing is not on my to-do list. I'm basically the reincarnation of Mario Andretti behind the wheel. I slam on the brakes so hard that my head smacks the steering wheel, my curls cascading in front of my face like a tangled mess. Frantically, I swipe them away, my heart racing with panic. I lift my gaze, and my eyes practically bulge out of their sockets when I see Warren, Tim, an

Today has been dragging on forever. I've already aced three tests in various classes but my mind keeps drifting back to Leia from last night. She's like a stubborn stain that won't come out, no matter how hard I scrub. It's annoying how she doesn't even realize the effect she has on me. Like when she almost killed us from her ‘great driving’ all I wanted to do was kiss her. Psychotic, maybe.I had to bail early last night because just her gaze alone was enough to give me a raging boner. And don't even get me started on when she accidentally fell on me, and her boobs were practically plastered against my chest. Yeah, that didn't help my situation. "Your big game is coming up next Friday, it will be an away game, at Greeley," Coach Johnson announces, his voice cutting through the frigid air. I can feel the cold seeping into my bare feet, the ice clinging to my socks like an unwanted guest.We're all gathered on the ice, standing in our socks like a bunch of idiots. The other guys l

Leia wasn't at practice today. She never misses practice, but today she decided to break the streak. The thought of her absence gnaws at me. Did something happen?My curiosity gets the best of me as I stroll around campus, my nonchalant demeanor masking the concern that's bubbling up inside me. When I finally spot a redhead, I call out to her, and she waves me over with a bright smile. I quickly jog to her side and get straight to the point. "Where's Leia? She wasn't at practice," I ask, my tone trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Ari hesitates, looking down at the ground before finally meeting my gaze. "She's in our dorm, Twelve-B in the Walcott dorms. I don't think she's okay, she seemed mad when we were driving back here," she explains. My eyebrow quirks up. Leia mad? That's no surprise, but I still want to know why. I mentally debate whether or not I should check up on her. In the end, my curiosity wins out. I mean, I do want to know why she's mad, and if Leia asks why I'

I drum my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, my gaze fixed on the weathered oak door. The paint is chipped and worn, revealing the bare wood underneath. The lawn is a patchwork of yellowed grass and weeds, neglected and unkempt. The short metal fence that surrounds the property is bent and rusted in places, a testament to years of neglect. I let out a sigh, my breath misting in the chilly air inside the car. I absentmindedly nibble on a perfectly manicured nail, my nerves getting the best of me. The rain falls gently, creating a soft pitter-patter on the car's windshield. The only other sound is the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers as they clear the rain from the glass. The sky is a dull gray, heavy with clouds that seem to stretch on forever. Occasionally, a flash of lightning illuminates the horizon, but the thunder is distant, a mere echo of the storm. The house itself looms before me, its weathered facade giving off an air of abandonment. It's a small, nondesc